The Only Club That Matters
by kgregs
Summary: **Alternative to PS** In the cold war between WWE and AEW, Hannah McMahon has a foot in both worlds: she's climbing the ranks in her father's company while also dating Kenny Omega. But when Hannah joins The Club and the cold war turns into an all-out battle, the cracks in their relationship start to show - and she finds comfort in unexpected arms. (Kenny Omega/OC/AJ Styles).
1. Cheaper Than Therapy

**A/N:** _Okay, so... after writing the last chapter of Paradigm Shift I got to thinking... and I realized it would make so much more sense if Hannah's other love interest was AJ Styles instead of Jon. So here we are. As I said in the description, I guess this is like an alternative to Paradigm Shift (choose your own adventure: Moxley or Styles!). Fair warning, the chapters are going be extremely similar in the beginning, basically swapping out Moxley for AJ. And I totally don't blame y'all at all if you hate me for doing this, but it was in my head and I really like the concept. Enjoy!_

**Chapter One**

_Sunday, April 21, 2019__  
__Davenport, Iowa_

"Alright, alright—everyone raise your glasses!" The table grew quiet as Colby called for attention, and everyone reverently raised their shot glasses and drinks in toast. "I'll try to keep this short and sweet," he started. "Tonight was The Shield's Final Chapter, and I'm not gonna lie: it's bittersweet. When The Shield debuted at Survivor Series 2012, in those god-awful turtlenecks, I had no idea that it would become one of the greatest stables in WWE history and, in my very biased opinion, all of wrestling. Those first two original years not only shaped who I am as a wrestler and person, but gave me a sister and two brothers in Hannah, Joe, and Jon. And no matter what we're going through or where we're working, I know they'll always have my back, and I'll always have theirs.

"So here's to Jon, who's going off to greener pastures. We wish you nothing but success in all your future endeavors. And here's to The Shield, the greatest faction this side of DX."

"To The Shield!" the table proclaimed, and after clinking glasses with everyone around her Hannah McMahon kicked back her shot. She twitched unpleasantly as the Jack Daniel's burned down her throat; it'd been awhile since she'd drank hard liquor, but tonight called for it.

Just over an hour ago in front of less than 12,000 fans in Moline, Illinois, The Shield had wrestled their final match. Hannah had fought back tears as she'd raised Seth, Roman, and Dean's arms in the ring for the last time; truly, it had felt as if she were closing not just a chapter, but an entire book in the anthology of her life. The Shield was what had brought her to WWE TV after years of refusing to become an onscreen character. It had been her creative outlet for all her backstage frustrations; it had molded her philosophy on the business; it had made her a stronger person, both in front of and behind the camera. It had given her love; it had given her pain. And even though the show had been a beautiful send-off for the group, it would take more than just a final match for Hannah and the rest of them to adequately close that chapter. So here they all were, just over the Mississippi River in Davenport, Iowa, where they could all pour one out for The Shield at Colby's favorite hometown haunt.

"Hannah! What do you want? I'm buying."

She snapped out of her reverie at the sound of Baron Corbin's voice. Most of the other wrestlers on the card had come out to celebrate—either because they were good friends with Colby, Joe, and Jon, or just because they enjoyed a good time. "Oh, I'm good," she said with a shake of her head. "I'm gonna head out here in a little bit."

"What?" Joe whipped his head around when he heard that. "Six and a half years of history and you're only gonna have _one_ shot? I'm disappointed, Hannah. As I recall, the very first time we went out drinking together you rode a mechanical bull on Bourbon Street."

Bayley's eyes lit up at that. "Are you serious?! Okay, I have to hear this story."

"No, you really don't," Hannah interrupted before Joe could elaborate. "All you need to know is it was _Bourbon Street_. And a lot has changed in six and a half years, Joe."

"Yeah," Fergal—a.k.a. Finn Balor—said from next to Hannah. "Now instead of staying out drinking with us she wants to get to the hotel so she can have phone sex with Kenny."

Everyone within earshot either gaped in shock or burst out laughing. Hannah backhanded Fergal's shoulder. "We don't have _phone sex!_" she proclaimed in disgust.

"Bullshit. You two've kept up a long-distance relationship for over a year, you must be doing something."

Hannah's entire face burned bright red. What she did behind closed doors with her boyfriend was no one's business. "Well, you're an asshole, and I think I'll take that drink now."

"That-a girl," Joe grinned.

"I'll get it," Fergal said in consolation as he got up from the table. "You know I'm just teasing you, Hannah."

"Uh huh," she muttered; but when he returned with her favorite beer all was forgiven.

The night continued on, friends and colleagues reminiscing about the past and wondering about the future, and one by one people closed their tabs and headed out to the next town, until there were only a handful left at the bar. It was nearing midnight when Hannah finally decided she should hit the road herself.

"Are you sure you don't want to crash at my place?" Colby asked as she stood from the table. "My guest room is only 20 minutes away."

"Thanks but no thanks. I'm gonna let you two," she suggestively wagged her finger between Colby and Becky, "have the house to yourselves. Besides, you know I like my midnight drives. They're cheaper than therapy."

"That I do know," Colby grinned. "Come here." He wrapped her up in a hug, and suddenly Hannah felt tears pricking at the back of her eyes again. While her relationship with each of the guys in The Shield were unique and special in their own way, her friendship with Colby was beyond. Colby was her brother, her partner in crime both on and off-screen, and the best friend she'd ever had. Now that The Shield was officially disbanded, she didn't know if they'd ever get to work together on TV again—and, deep down, that was what really got her.

"Okay, I'm gonna start crying again," she forced a smile as she pulled away and wiped her eyes. "I gotta get out of here." She turned to Becky and gave her a warm hug. "See you at the next one."

"Drive safe, alright?" Becky said. "Send us a text when you get to the hotel."

"I will," she said, and with another wave she went up to the bar to settle her tab. AJ Styles was there ordering another drink. Seeing him, Hannah realized she hadn't talked to him all night. Although, given what was going on, he probably wanted to be left alone.

He noticed her, too. "Hannah! You're not leaving already, are you?" he asked when he saw her pull out her credit card. "This is your party! It's barely midnight!"

She smiled. "Well, it's not _really_ my party. And I _definitely_ can't go as hard as the boys—I'm kind of a lightweight. It's sad, really. My Irish ancestors would probably disown me."

"Come hang out with me and the boys," he said, presumably meaning Luke Gallows and Karl Anderson. "We'll teach you how to drink."

"Lord, you'd probably kill me. The amount of alcohol Gallows alone can put back would put me in the hospital."

"Well _obviously_," he returned. "That's why we'd start you out at Karl's pace. He's the lightweight in our group."

Hannah let out a laugh. "I'll be sure to tell him you said that."

The bartender brought her receipt. She left a generous tip—he deserved it for dealing with a bar full of wrestlers—signed her name and slid it back toward him; but she didn't want to leave just yet. She couldn't, not without checking in on him first. She just wasn't sure how to broach the topic.

"I wasn't expecting you to be here tonight," she ventured. It was as good a place to start as any.

AJ shrugged. "Well, I'm on TV tomorrow so I figured why not? I'd rather be here than home right now, anyway."

There it was. He'd opened the door for her, but she was afraid to go in. By now everyone had heard what was going on with AJ—the WWE locker room was as bad as high school, it was impossible to keep your personal business to yourself—but that didn't mean it was up for discussion. If Hannah was going through a separation, she certainly wouldn't want to talk about it with her coworkers. But she might want to talk about it with a friend; and she and AJ were friends.

"I'm really sorry." That was all she said. It wasn't her place to say anything more.

He glanced down at his beer. "It is what it is. I learned a long time ago not to get upset over things I can't change."

"Well, at least your tattoo is for your kids, so you won't have to change that." Hannah's eyes widened, suddenly mortified. Had she said that out loud? "Oh my God," she backtracked, her face burning red. "I'm a fucking idiot. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—"

"Hey," he cut her off. He was smirking. "It's ok. I've had the same thought."

She clamped her mouth shut, embarrassed. At least she hadn't offended him. "Well, I'm gonna go before I shove my foot in my mouth any further." She gave a sheepish wave and turned on her heel, eager to escape her shame—but AJ stopped her.

"Hannah." He put his hand on her arm, and she turned back around to face him. It took a second for her to work up the nerve to meet his gaze; but when she did, his eyes were sincere. "Thank you for not asking me how I'm doing. I'm sick of people asking that."

She mustered a grin, however small. "Well, I figured it'd be a stupid question."

He gave a wry laugh as if to say, _Yeah, it would be._

"See you tomorrow," she said, and she walked as quickly as she could out of the bar and to the illuminated parking lot where her rental sat. She dialed Kenny as soon as she climbed into the SUV. He answered on the third ring.

"Hey, baby."

Hannah relaxed back into the driver's seat. Hearing Tyson's soft voice floating through the speaker immediately put her at ease. "Hey. You haven't been up waiting on me, have you?"

"Well, technically not; I'm up playing video games. But you know I can't sleep until I know you've made it to the next stop."

"I know," she said apologetically. "I'm leaving Davenport now; I should be in Des Moines in about two and a half hours. I honestly probably should have left here an hour ago."

"Why?" he sounded surprised. "Is everything okay?"

She sighed. "Yeah. Tonight was just… emotional. The Shield was like my version of Bullet Club or The Elite, you know? And now it's over."

"I know. But it was time. You've all outgrown it, and now you're each going on to do more amazing things. And from now until the end of time everyone will look back at The Shield as the thing that first put four incredible performers on the map."

Now, her smile risked splitting her face in two. God, she was in love with this man. "How do you always know exactly what to say?"

"It's a preternatural gift, I can't explain it."

"Well, thank you. And you're right. But nostalgia's a hell of a drug."

"That it is. But don't you worry; in two more days I'll put you through a strict detox program."

She bit her lip at the thought. After SmackDown's show in Lincoln, Nebraska on Tuesday she'd make the short two-hour flight to Winnipeg to spend a few days with Tyson before she had to be back on the road Friday. That was how they'd managed their time together ever since he'd left NJPW in January: splitting their free days between his place in Canada and hers in Connecticut, or wherever was most convenient. It could be stressful at times, and Hannah lived out of a suitcase—but it was the same for any other pro wrestler who maintained a relationship with someone outside the business. The only difference was that Tyson _was_ in the business; he just worked for a different company. A rival company. But they both chose not to think about that.

"Oh really? And what will you prescribe, Dr. Omega?"

"I have a few pretty intense regimens planned," he said, and Hannah couldn't help herself—she let out a laugh. "What?"

"Back at the bar Fergal accused me of wanting to leave early so I could go have phone sex with you. I told him we don't do that, but this is sure starting to sound like it."

"Please, this is barely phone foreplay. Besides, Fergal doesn't have any room to throw stones about phone sex."

"Yeah, don't wanna know," Hannah quickly said. "But I'll be counting down the days until Tuesday. I'm excited to finally get to spend some time with you in Winnipeg again. I feel bad that you've mostly been the one traveling to see me the last month."

She could almost hear him shaking his head through the phone. "Don't. You've been really busy and I haven't. And if the roles were reversed, I know you'd travel to see me."

"I would," she said, and in that moment her heart swelled with joy. She was so lucky to have found someone as understanding and supportive as Tyson. It made all the difference. "Well, I'm on the highway now, so I'll let you get back to your game. I'll text you when I get to the hotel."

"Ok. Drive safe and listen to loud music."

"I will. I love you."

"I love you too, baby."

Hannah ended the call, her soul a million times lighter. She turned up the radio and focused on the road ahead, the past in the rearview mirror. As she'd told Colby, midnight drives were cheaper than therapy.


	2. Alleged Allegiances

_A/N: If you're already reading Paradigm Shift, I apologize because this chapter is exactly the same as the second chapter of that fic. If you're seeing this for the first time - enjoy!_

**Chapter Two**

_Monday, April 22, 2019  
Monday Night Raw – Des Moines, Iowa_

"You sure you don't want to open the show? It really doesn't make a damn difference whether it's me, you, or the fucking Anonymous Raw GM out there."

Paul Levesque tossed a stack of papers on the couch as he barged into Hannah's makeshift office at the Wells Fargo Arena. He'd made a bad habit of walking in on her without warning over the last few weeks, so much so that she'd taken to changing in the women's dressing room as a precaution. She'd also noticed that his unannounced appearances always seemed to occur after he'd had a creative disagreement with her father—and that had been happening more and more lately.

"Well, resurrecting the Anonymous Raw GM would certainly shake things up!" she chirped. But her brother-in-law wasn't in a joking mood.

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that."

A frown crossed her face as she glanced at the discarded papers; they were the script for that night's show. She let out a tired sigh. "What happened now?"

"Same shit, different day," he breathed. "Vince is blatantly trying to throw me a bone by having me—I don't know, _mediate_ the opening segment, but there's no rhyme or reason for it. Seriously, it would make more sense for you to do it after last night."

Hannah picked up the script and skimmed it over. The top of the show would open with six different men—Samoa Joe, Rey Mysterio, Drew McIntyre, The Miz, Baron Corbin, and AJ Styles—all marching out to the ring to lobby their case for a title match against WWE Universal Champion Seth Rollins at the upcoming Money in the Bank pay-per-view. As far as she could tell there wasn't anything wrong with the segment itself—it would set up a series of matches that night to determine the new no. 1 contender. But Paul had a point: Given her on-screen history with Seth and The Shield's Final Chapter the night before, it would make a lot more sense for her to "mediate" rather than him.

"Let me guess. You suggested that I should do it and Dad shot you down."

"No, I didn't bother," he returned. "One, because he would shoot it down; and two, because this one segment isn't worth rocking the boat over. I need to pick and choose my battles."

Hannah's frown deepened. "This isn't really about the opening segment, is it?"

Paul gave a curt laugh. She was right. "I'm fucking sick of my best guys coming up here and being booked into oblivion. I try, and I try, and I try to get them something—_anything_—but Vince is too damn busy entertaining every shitbrained idea under the sun that there's no time left for these kids. It's getting to the point where I don't even want any of them coming up here. They're better off staying down in NXT."

He pulled out his cell phone and busied himself with typing out a text, and Hannah rolled his words over in her mind. She wasn't sure how to respond. On one hand, Vince was her father and she sincerely believed that, deep down, he knew what he was doing. But on the other hand, she agreed with Paul; and she certainly couldn't blame him. NXT was his baby—and, to a lesser extent, it was hers, too. She'd personally signed at least half the people on the NXT roster, both past and present, and it killed her to see so much of their talent wasted and ignored once they arrived on Raw and SmackDown. Perhaps it was time the black-and-yellow officially evolved from developmental territory to bonafide brand; maybe then Paul's kids would get a decent shot.

But before she could say as much out loud, he made another comment. "I wouldn't blame any of them for going to AEW."

Hannah sent him a measured look. "I'm gonna pretend _you_ didn't say that."

"Oh come on. Tell me you haven't thought the same. And furthermore, tell me you haven't thought of going yourself."

"_Excuse me?_" she shot. If Paul was suggesting what it sounded like—

"I'm not accusing you of anything," he appeased. "But you must have at least thought about it. I mean, aren't you and Kenny getting pretty serious?"

That gave Hannah pause. _Were_ she and Tyson "pretty serious"? Sure, they'd been together a year and change, but they'd also spent a good portion of that time living across the world from each other. Now they were on the same continent, at least, but that move had been prompted by Tyson's career; being closer to each other was just a happy consequence. She realized, with some consternation, that she wasn't quite sure how to answer Paul's question. So she talked around it. "Of course I've thought about it, but not seriously. Regardless of my relationship, the fact of the matter is WWE is my _blood_. And besides, even if Tyson did want me work for AEW it wouldn't be his decision to make alone. Cody and the Young Bucks would have to agree to it, too; and I think we both know hell is more likely to freeze over than that."

Hannah bit her lip, suddenly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken. For as long as they'd been together, Tyson's friends had always kept her at arm's length—and Cody in particular. Whereas the Young Bucks were friendly with her for Tyson's sake—Nick more so than Matt—Cody was at best lukewarm and at worst downright cold. But his behavior wasn't what bothered her; it was _why_ he treated her the way he did. She was the daughter of Vince McMahon and the sister-in-law of Triple H, the two people whom he perceived had wronged him most in the world. And for Cody, that was more than enough reason to paint her as the enemy—even though she'd never done shit to him.

"So you two have never talked about it?"

Paul's question pulled her back out of her thoughts. "God no," she answered with a shake of her head. "We completely avoid the whole WWE-AEW issue."

His eyebrows shot up at that. "How long do you expect to keep that up?"

She gave a half-shrug. "As long as we can, I guess."

At that moment someone knocked on the door, and Hannah silently thanked God for the interruption. "Come in," she called—and she sat up straighter when her father walked into the room.

"Oh good, I wanted to talk to both of you," Vince said when he saw Paul on the couch. "About the opening segment; I think Hannah should do it. Is that good with you both?"

Hannah glanced at Paul, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "Yeah, I'm good with that."

Vince nodded, satisfied. "Good. It's gonna be a great show tonight!" he proclaimed, and with that he was back out the door.

"Did that seriously just happen?" Paul asked, dumbfounded.

Hannah grinned. "See, he didn't turn down your idea. He just had to come up with it himself."

* * *

"Styles! Middle of the ring! Submission hold locked in! Is Corbin gonna tap?"

Hannah watched with bated breath from backstage as Michael Cole called the main event action in the ring. It was funny: even though she knew exactly how the match would end, she still watched with as much excitement and anticipation as the fans in the crowd. Admittedly, it was mostly due to AJ—she always watched with rapt attention whenever he wrestled. That, and the Calf Crusher he currently had locked on Baron Corbin looked legitimately painful.

She winced as AJ wrenched Baron's leg back further. But just when it looked like it was all over, Baron grabbed a fistful of AJ's hair and slammed his head back against the mat with a hard _thud_.

"Shit!" Hannah proclaimed. Vince shot her a stern look, and suddenly she remembered she was wearing one of the headsets that connected to the commentary team. She mouthed a _sorry_ and pulled the headset off; no doubt Corey would give her shit about that little slip-up later.

She focused back on the match. Baron had AJ hung up on the ropes. He jumped to the second turnbuckle, aiming a forearm at AJ's exposed back; but AJ slid out of the ring at the last second, sending Baron gut-first into the top rope. The crowd cheered, and as Baron stumbled back in pain AJ slingshot himself off the top rope and hit a picture-perfect Phenomenal Forearm. He hooked Baron's leg, and the crowd counted along with the referee.

"One! Two! Three!"

The bell rang as the arena erupted. AJ Styles was the no. 1 contender to the WWE Universal Championship.

"Not a bad main event," Hannah said to Paul; Vince was still talking into the commentators' headsets as Seth Rollins made his way out to the ring to greet his newly crowned Money in the Bank opponent. "I gotta say, I didn't really care for Corbin, but he's been winning me over."

"Yeah, apparently he's in line for a big push after Money in the Bank."

That was news to her. "He's not getting the briefcase again, is he?"

"Hell if I know. You know Vince doesn't make up his mind about that shit until 10 minutes beforehand."

Hannah pursed her lips. That was a bit hyperbolic, but before she could say anything about it the production area erupted with applause. AJ and Seth had returned backstage from their stare-down in the ring.

"Congratulations, AJ!" Vince boomed. "Great job out there."

"Thank you, sir," AJ said as he shook Vince's hand. "I'm looking forward to Money in the Bank." He turned to Hannah and held up the "Too Sweet" sign. "Gimme some, Hannah."

She grinned and touched her fingers to his—and no sooner did she than Colby let out a cry of protest.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! The Shield _just_ ended yesterday and you're already Two Sweet-ing my opponent? I see how it is, Hannah."

"Nah, don't worry, man," AJ assured him with a shake of his head. "She's still got your back. Her boyfriend's the one who kicked me out of Bullet Club, remember?"

Hannah felt her face flush hot with embarrassment. "Okay, okay," she interrupted, keenly aware of how her father was watching them. "I'm a neutral party in this, I promise."

AJ sent Colby a sideways glance. "You believe her?"

Colby narrowed his eyes, feigning contemplation. "Nah, I don't think I do."

Hannah returned his suspicious look. "Well then, I guess you both should watch your backs."

"I guess we should," AJ agreed.

They all stood in a circle, silently eyeing each other—until Paul interjected.

"You guys are weird," he said good-naturedly before clapping AJ on the shoulder. "Good job tonight."

AJ nodded in gratitude. "Thanks, Paul, I appreciate that."

He stuck his hands in his pockets, and there was a beat of awkward silence before he spoke again. "Well, I'm thinking we should head out soon. That good with you?"

"Oh, yeah," Hannah agreed; she'd almost forgotten she was riding with him to Lincoln. "I just need to get my stuff together."

Paul gave a curt, silent nod, and with a wave to the others he exited the production area. But before Hannah could follow suit, her father stopped her.

"Hannah, come talk to me before you leave."

The expression on Vince's face was, as per usual, completely unreadable. She had to swallow a lump in her throat before answering. "Will do," she said lightly; but she sent Colby and AJ a loaded look before ducking out the exit.

She took her time walking the halls back to her dressing room, stopping to tell Baron she'd liked both his matches that night, and then deliberately took her time packing up her things. She didn't know what her father wanted to talk about, but she had a feeling it had something to do with Paul. She'd mediated tensions between them before, and if Paul's bitter attitude tonight was any indication another mediation was necessary. With a deep, steadying breath, she grabbed her bags and headed toward his office. She knocked quickly three times before letting herself in.

"What's up?" she asked. Vince launched right into it.

"Good, you're here; I'll make this quick. Your little… _interaction_ with Seth and AJ back there gave me an idea."

Hannah blinked. So she'd been wrong that this was about Paul. Furthermore, the last time Vince had called a private meeting to run an _idea_ by her it'd been to coax her into managing The Shield. She could only imagine what he'd come up with now. "What's that?"

"Just hear me out first, okay?" he said, and her stomach dropped. For him to start off his pitch like that, it meant he knew she probably wouldn't like it. "AJ brought up an interesting point when he mentioned Bullet Club."

Hannah steeled her jaw, straining to keep her mouth shut. She could tell exactly where this was going, and she _definitely_ didn't like it. But she let him continue.

"And Seth also had a good point that you two have a history, both inside and outside The Shield. So what if we added you into the mix of their Money in the Bank match, with the angle that you're in Seth's corner—but then you turn on him in favor of AJ?"

"What?" the word flew out of her mouth before she could stop it. She paused to compose herself before going on. "But Seth's retaining, isn't he? So what value would my interference add?"

"Shock value," Vince answered. "AJ doesn't need to win for you to turn on Seth. Actually, it works out better that he doesn't because I wasn't planning on turning him until the summer."

Hannah shifted her weight to one leg; a silent consolation that he had a point. But her stubbornness refused to let her admit as much out loud. "Okay, but what reason do I have to back AJ over Seth?"

"Bullet Club."

She blinked again, confused at the absolute assuredness in his tone. "Bullet Club?"

"Bullet Club," he repeated. "We already have plans to reform The Club this summer now that Styles, Gallows, and Anderson are back on the same show. Aligning you with AJ—and, later, The Club—will be a nice bit of fan service."

Hannah's eyes widened. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "_Fan service?_"

Vince let out a placating sigh. "Hannah, look. I know you want to keep your work and personal life separate—"

"Yes, I do."

"—but you and Kenny are a hot topic. All the fans know you're together, and with AEW on the horizon, _I_ know they want us to address it. Putting you in a storyline with The Club is a way to give them a little wink and nudge while also keeping your relationship out of the direct spotlight—and it will help me avoid a blatant WWE vs. AEW angle, which I sure as hell am not giving them."

With every word he said, Hannah slowly but surely felt the muscles in her face and shoulders begin to relax. Her father didn't want a ripped-from-real-life storyline à la the Attitude Era; he just wanted to give the fans a little nod of recognition. But that revelation wasn't what struck her most. Behind his normally cool, collected gaze she could see a hint of _something_ that told her he knew AEW was already a legitimate threat—and was asking her to help him combat it.

She stood up straighter. "I'll think about it," she said, promising nothing more. But as she left his office, she remembered that that was exactly what she'd told him when he'd asked her to manage The Shield more than six years ago—and they both knew that she'd already made up her mind.


	3. Sunshine Surprise

_A/N: Ditto as the previous chapter. Enjoy!_

**Chapter Three**

_Wednesday, April 24, 2019  
Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada_

Whenever Hannah and Tyson first saw each other after time apart, their baser instincts always took over. No sooner had she walked through his front door last night than he had her on the nearest couch, moaning and arching her back, gripping his hair a little too hard as his tongue flicked over all the right spots. When that was done, she'd all but ripped off his sweatpants to get at what she wanted, and he'd been more than happy to oblige. It was as if they couldn't think straight until they touched, fucked, fulfilled their physical need for one another—and often just once wasn't enough. Later, when they'd climbed into bed, they were barely under the covers before they'd found each other again. Even now, as Hannah drifted in and out of consciousness in the soft morning light, all she wanted was to straddle Tyson and ride him, deep and slow. Then, hopefully, the sex-brain fog would lift and allow them to function.

She turned over and moved closer. He was still fast asleep. But as much as she ached to feel him between her legs, she couldn't bring herself to disturb him. Something about seeing him lying there next to her, quiet and vulnerable, his curly hair a complete mess, made her fall in love all over again.

When Fergal had first introduced Hannah and Tyson during WWE's annual trip to Tokyo in the summer of 2017, no one had thought much of it. Maybe they'd go on a date and flirt a bit on Twitter, generate a few clickbait headlines for the dirt sheets, but that'd be it. Everyone assumed they were just too far apart—both geographically and professionally—for any real romance to possibly take root. Hannah herself had assumed as much; having zero expectations was the best way she knew how to keep from getting hurt. Again.

But then, to her complete and utter confusion, Tyson had kept making an effort—to talk to her, to see her—and slowly but surely, she'd let down her defenses. By the time the new year rolled around it was an open secret that they were, at least in some capacity, an item; and when Hannah made a surprise appearance in Chris Jericho's corner for his marquee match against Kenny at Wrestle Kingdom 12—an idea that Jericho had pitched to Vince himself—the wrestling world lost its damn mind. It was that night, backstage at the Tokyo Dome, that Tyson and Hannah made their relationship official. She'd been scared out of her mind, worried about the stress of maintaining a relationship with someone who lived halfway across the world, but she'd jumped in with both feet, anyway. And she'd never regretted a minute of it.

He stirred next to her. Hannah scooted nearer, and as soon as she felt his skin against hers she needed him again. She ran her hand over the taut muscles of his abdomen, pressed her lips against his chest. It wasn't long before she had his attention.

"Mmm," he murmured. "Good morning to you too." His voice was throaty with sleep. It only worked to arouse more.

"Care to make it an even better morning?" She moved her hand lower; he sucked in a breath when her fingers traced over his length. He was hard already.

"Absolutely."

That was all the invitation she needed.

* * *

"Come on, come on, come on!"

"Babe, don't just jam buttons. You need to do combos."

"But—this—is—_working!_" Hannah gritted in between her furious button-mashing. They'd been playing this dumb Street Fighter video game for half an hour, and she felt like she was finally starting to get the hang of it. Truth be told, she hated playing video games—but her natural competitiveness always suckered her in. She refused to quit until she won at least one—

"_K.O.!_"

She abruptly dropped the XBOX controller to her lap. Tyson had beat her. Again.

He sent her a cautious glance—and then let out a loud bark of laughter at the look of utter irritation on her face. "I love you. But you're terrible at video games."

"And yet every time you ask me to play, for some strange reason I agree."

"I know. Are you a masochist or something?"

"Hey!" She grabbed a throw pillow from the couch and lightly hit his shoulder. "I'm getting better. That round was better."

"I went easy on you—hey!" He blocked the pillow from smacking him square in the face. "Alright, I'll concede that round was better," he admitted. And then, "I think it was the first time you lasted past three minutes."

"Tyson!" She aimed the pillow right at his shit-eating grin, but—a better fighter than her in real life as well as in virtual reality—he just grabbed it and used it to pull her closer. She pouted up at him. "I was trying really hard."

"I know. You'll get the hang of it, I promise. And I know I tease you about it a lot—"

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

"—but I love that you try. I know you don't like playing. But you do it because you know _I _like it. That means a lot to me."

Hannah played with the corner of the pillow, suddenly bashful; like a schoolgirl with a crush. "Well, _you_ mean a lot to me. So if I have to get my ass whooped at Street Fighter or whatever else every now and again, I'll do it every time."

"Hey." She looked back up at him. His eyes were so blue. "C'mere."

She crawled across his lap, the pillow tossed aside, and pressed her lips to his. His hands slid up her back, under her shirt, drawing their bodies closer. Her fingers moved with a mind of their own, craving the feel of him, down his chest and toward the hem of shirt; but he put a stop to it before she could get any further. He brushed his thumbs over the soft skin of her lower back. "I want more of this."

The corner of her mouth quirked up. "What? Murdering me in video games?"

"Well, not _just_ that," he smirked. "No. I want more of you, more of _us_. I want to wake up next to you and come home to you; I want you to come home to me. Not just sometimes, or when it works with our schedules. All the time."

Hannah sat up straighter, taken aback. Was he asking what she thought he was? She almost didn't want to say it out loud, afraid that she was wrong. But she had to. "Are you asking me to move in with you?"

He continued to brush his thumbs over her skin, grounding her. "No. I'm talking about us both moving into a new place. Together."

If his previous statement hadn't thrown her for a loop, that certainly did. "You would sell this place? But you love it!"

"I do. But it's just a house, and I love you more."

Hannah sank back on her hips. She hadn't been expecting this. They'd never broached the topic of living together before. When Tyson had still worked for NJPW it'd been absolutely out of the question, and when he'd left and moved back to Canada she didn't _want_ to bring it up, too afraid of pushing too much change at once. In fact, up until a few seconds ago, it'd felt like a taboo topic between them. But now here they were, and _he'd_ been the one to bring it up—and she wasn't sure what to say.

"Where would we get a place?" she asked. It seemed like the logical next question, and she honestly didn't know the answer.

Evidently, neither did Tyson. "Florida?" he said with a shrug. And then, at her surprised look: "Well, we both can do our jobs from anywhere. But I know you're getting more involved in NXT and everything that goes on down there, and I've been spending a lot of time there between wrestling shows and gaming stuff. Plus, AEW HQ is in North Carolina; and Florida's a hell of a lot closer to there than here."

She had to give it to him: that argument made a lot of sense, and it made her wonder how long he'd been thinking about this. But at the same time, she was a New England girl: she liked sweater weather and snow and _seasons_. As much as she did business there, she didn't know if she could picture herself _living_ in Florida. But just as Tyson loved her more than this house, she loved him more than sweater weather; and if Florida was where she had to go to be with him, then she'd go to Florida.

He pulled her back toward him, back out of her thoughts and into the present. "I know I kind of sprung this on you, and I know it's a big decision and there's a lot we'd both have to do. So all I'm asking is that you think about it."

She ran her hands up his chest, relished the feel of his arms around her, safe and strong. It felt like it was where she belonged. "I will absolutely think about it," she said, and sealed the promise with a kiss.

* * *

_Friday, April 26, 2019  
Titan Tower – Stamford, Connecticut_

"Tyson asked me to move in with him."

Stephanie nearly spit out her coffee. No doubt when Hannah told her she had something to tell her, she hadn't for a second thought it would be _that_. "He wants you to move to _Canada?_"

"No," she backtracked, waving her hand as if to clear the air of her words. "Sorry, I meant he wants us to move into a new place together."

Her sister still seemed shocked, eyes wide and eyebrows arched toward her hairline. Maybe Hannah should have waited until she'd finished her first cup of coffee before dropping this news in her lap. "Well, that's good, right? I mean it's about time you two at least discussed it."

"No kidding," she muttered. It was no secret that Stephanie regarded Hannah and Tyson's relationship with a healthy dose of caution; the entire family did. But out of all them, Stephanie gave them the biggest benefit of the doubt. Maybe it was because she knew what it was like to date within the business, maybe it was because she knew what it was like to be Vince McMahon's daughter, or maybe it was a little bit of both, but Hannah knew her sister just wanted her to be happy. And as long Tyson made her happy, then he was ok in Stephanie's book.

"Where would you move to? Would you get a place in Connecticut?"

"I don't know, we haven't gotten that far yet. He suggested Florida since I'm getting more involved in NXT."

"Florida?" Stephanie returned. "I can't see you living in Florida."

"Yeah, but unlike you the guy I decided to date doesn't just so happen to be from the same state as me, let alone the same country."

She pursed her lips. "Okay, Paul is from New Hampshire, not Connecticut. But point taken." She took a sip of coffee, and then: "So did you agree to it then?"

"To getting a place with him? No, not officially. He kind of dropped it on me out of nowhere, so he said just to think about it."

"And what are you thinking?"

Hannah paused. "That it seems like the logical next step in our relationship."

Stephanie sent her a deadpan look. "That doesn't tell me whether you _want_ to do it or not."

"Well I want to be with him, so of course I want to do it," she said, a bit more forcefully than she meant to. "It's just… I don't know. Scary."

She stared down at her desk, retreating into herself, the shadow of anxiety looming at the edges of her being; but Stephanie was quick to snap her out of it. "Of course it's scary. It's scary because it's change, and you've never done well with change. But you've also never let your fear hold you back from following your heart. If you had, you and Tyson wouldn't even be together."

Hannah couldn't help the smirk that crossed her lips. Stephanie McMahon, ever the advocate of tough love. But she did it because it worked.

"So think about it," she advised. "But do yourself a favor and forget about how scary it is, because that's not a real reason to say no."

No, her fear wasn't a real reason to say no. But as Stephanie checked her watch and excused herself, saying something about a conference call, Hannah wondered if there were any real reasons to say no. There weren't any now, not that she could see. But a part of her, a very small part buried very deep down, worried there could be a real reason in the near future, and it started with the letters "A," "E," and "W."


End file.
